


magic favours the strong

by Quiverquill



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: #DimiclaudeBdayWeek2020, Claude uses Wind magic, Custom & Culture, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Dimitri uses Lighting magic (supposedly), M/M, Magic AU, Non-Binary Byleth, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Worldbuilding, the author is taking great liberation with how magic works in fe3h
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiverquill/pseuds/Quiverquill
Summary: The ability to use magic is commonplace and prevalent in Fódlan's society, and as the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Dimitri is expected to be one of the finest students at the renowned Wizard's Academy of Garreg Mach Monastery.He is not. He can't even hold a wand without breaking it.When a customary event where Dimitri is supposed to showcase his magic skills draws ever closer on his calendar, the prince is desperate to learn how to cast at least one spell successfully. But he is considered impossible to teach, as all who try fail miserably.That is, until one Claude von Reigan decides to step in.(Written for Day 5 of Dimiclaude Birthday Week: Custom and Culture)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	magic favours the strong

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know it's a bit of a strange interpretation of the prompt but I wanted to take this chance to do some worldbuilding!  
> In case you haven't played fe3h, here's a basic rundown of what you need to know:  
> Reason magic is black magic (or dark magic but that's uncommon) and is entirely offensive magic.  
> Faith magic is white magic and is mostly healing magic, the spells that don't heal are all mostly quite advanced.
> 
> Warnings for panic attacks, self-loathing, implied xenophobia
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

"I don't suppose you have any intention of telling me where we're going, do you?"

A grin was shot in his direction. "Why, Your Princeliness, to tell you now would ruin the surprise!"

Dimitri suspected as much. He suppressed a sigh as another tree branch snapped under his aching feet, the summer sun burning the skin on the back of his high-collared neck, the stiff wood of his staff strapped to his back grating against the vertebrae of his spine. The air on the mountain was hot, thin, and incredibly still.

He wished that Claude had warned him that he planned on taking him on quite the spontaneous hike up a mountain  _ before _ they left, if only for Dimitri to equip himself in more suitable gear. Maybe also to apply some of that useful sun-repellent cream that Mercedes and Constance had started developing in an effort to improve the latter's aversion to the sun. But Dimitri should've known that Claude had his own way of approaching things.

It was his own fault, he kept reminding himself, as he swatted away another insect that was attracted by the embarrassingly potent stench of his sweat. Dimitri had been the one to ask Claude for his help, and to complain about such a trivial thing as a bit of exercise would be highly unbecoming of him, especially when Claude was helping him out of his own free will. And it wasn't like this had been the first time he'd climbed a mountain under arduous conditions – if anything, he should've been happy that he was not wearing heavy armour, or carrying a boulder, or sprinting as fast as he could in order to make it back to Gustave in under an hour – but the summer sun of the mountains surrounding Garreg Mach had an especially suffocating effect on him that the mountains of Faerghus lacked. The northern prince felt like he'd do anything for a simple, soft breeze to ease across his face and fill his lungs with sweet, cold air.

Though, he had to wonder – as they climbed higher and higher, and the sun's rays became stronger, harsher – how exactly was climbing a mountain supposed to help him practice magic?!

He did not dare voice this question aloud. While he was unsure of whether or not Claude would mock him for it, he was still worried that the answer would be glaringly obvious, as was everything else magical in Fódlan that someone as dumb as him could not hope to understand.

Dimitri didn't think he was stupid, but he'd been starting to lose any small shred of self-confidence he'd had ever since he'd been forced to enroll in the Wizard's Academy of Garreg Mach Monastery. 

He was very clearly the worst student in his class, if not the entire  _ school. _

For the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to be so inept at magic – to not even be able to cast a single spell successfully at the overripe age of seventeen – Dimitri knew that he was an embarrassment to his nation, and to every Blaiddyd that came before him.

Magic was so intricately woven into every aspect of the lives of the people of Fódlan that it was impossible to go with a day without witnessing magic used for any mundane purpose, such as cooking, cleaning, or healing. It is said that the goddess, Sothis, graced the people of Fódlan with the ability to cast spells, and that She did so to set Fódlan apart from the rest of the known world. And indeed, Dimitri had heard tales of the people of Dagda, Duscur, and Sreng being completely incapable of casting magic, had seen Dedue stricken with fear and awe at the common use of magic in Faerghus society.

As one of the few in Fódlan to bear a crest of one the Ten Elites, and the last to bear the legendary royal crest of Blaiddyd, Dimitri's spellcasting ability was expected to be  _ above average  _ at the very least. His father's certainly had been, as well as all of his ancestors that came before him.

Swatting away another bug that threatened to land on his sweaty neck, Dimitri felt the familiar stone of anxiety weigh down his stomach. If he didn't somehow overcome his inability to cast magic, something that comes so easily to everyone else in Fódlan, his people would lose faith in him before he ever sat on the throne.

The crestology books most people read neglected to mention that the crest of Blaiddyd did not contribute at all to his ability to control magic, instead making him highly adept at disintegrating wands at regular intervals. He'd quickly switched to using the slightly sturdier option of using staves instead of wands out of pure necessity, no matter how uncommon (and frankly, quite haughty) for someone in this day and age to wield one. However, they were still not immune to snapping in half in a strong, frustrated grip.

He'd failed spectacularly in all of the examinations at the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery, and it seemed like the Royal Court had sent him to Garreg Mach as a last resort to unveil some sort of secret magical talent he had. This belief that he'd be a "late bloomer" wasn't unfounded; under the careful eye of the experts at the Wizard's Academy, he'd seen several people who'd had difficulty controlling magic improve drastically after only a short time. Dimitri hoped that Garreg Mach would be able to help him, and that he'd finally be worth something in his country's eyes. He shouldn't have got his hopes up.

Instead, enrolling in the Wizard's Academy and automatically becoming the leader of the Blue Lion house provided its own set of problems and expectations that Dimitri couldn't hope to meet. He'd already been sent on several missions now alongside his class, having to complete them by relying entirely on his own barbaric strength, at the extreme disadvantage of not having the ability to cast a single spell.

The most pressing matter at the moment (though more were sure to follow afterward) was the customary ritual performed by all of the house leaders that marked the beginning of the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth. In a show of solidarity in front of the Goddess's divine grace, the house leaders were to point their wands toward the sky and shoot up a spell of their choice. The act was a sign to open the monastery gates and welcome the public inside with open arms.

It was simple, it was child's play; it was so forgettable in comparison to the rest of the important rituals that was to be held during that same day that Dimitri had only known that he was to take part due to a random conversation he'd happened to overhear between Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman. The retired songstress had lightly joked that they should replace the prince with that magicless Duscurian vassal that he'd brought with him to the monastery, that no one would notice the difference. She'd been mortified when he had approached her after she said so, Hanneman scolding her while she apologized profusely to him, but Dimitri had brushed off her apologies by promising her that he'd master a single spell before that day.

He couldn't help but feel like he'd brought this upon himself.

It was now the month of the Blue Sea Moon; the day of the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth was at the end of the month, and Dimitri was becoming increasingly desperate. He couldn't even grasp the  _ basics  _ of magic, and it was starting to look like nobody could help him. He already knew that his professors thought he was a lost cause. Annette, Mercedes and even Sylvain had attempted to tutor him in magic, to no avail. His lessons in Faith magic had at least gone better than those in Reason. The furthest he'd ever got was when he managed to produce the golden-white light of a simple Heal spell out of the end of his staff. It couldn't actually heal anything, and he'd accidentally snapped his staff in half in his extreme concentration.

At least Mercedes had been proud of him.

The Reason classes had been even worse. Most days nothing happened at all. On a few rare occasions, and only on particularly bad days, he blew up the classroom and nearly killed everyone inside.

He'd exhausted a lot of his options, and his ghosts screamed his feelings of guilt and fear of disappointing his people back in his ear while he was alone. That his mere presence at the academy spat in the face of all those who worked so hard to get there. That his status forces his classmates to feel inferior to him when he was so pathetically unworthy. Soon, after the ritual, everyone in Fódlan would know that the Crown Prince of Faerghus was unable to cast even a single spell, and would learn how worthless and weak he was. And how could the prince avenge the ghosts if he was so weak? He had no place making promises to his ghosts, to his people, to Dedue and to the rest of the Blue Lions if he didn't even have the strength to defend himself or others in battle, having to resort to wielding his staff like a violent brute, like the savages the Royal Court warned him of that lived outside the borders of Fódlan.

That was where Claude came in.

Dimitri had taken quick notice of him; as a fellow house leader, and the future leader of the Leicester Alliance, it was his duty to do so. He could tell that Claude was uncomfortable with that, though he tried to hide it behind an easy smile. Understandably so.

Because Claude cast magic as though he'd never held a wand in his entire life. That was impossible, however, every child in Fódlan was given a wand before they were even able to walk!

Dimitri had no right to be as surprised as he was. He'd expected both of his fellow house leaders to be leagues above him when it came to magical aptitude, but Edelgard had turned out to be only…  _ alright _ , while Claude seemed to be nearly on the same level as himself, and that was a low bar.

That had been the start of the year, however. As they continued, Edelgard had what seemed to be a miraculous turnaround, unearthing what appeared to be a budding talent in Reason magic, a fascinating phenomenon that had also happened to Felix as well, strangely enough. Edelgard refused to acknowledge that she'd ever had a difficulty with magic, and had been quite affronted and defensive when Dimitri had asked her about it (saying some choice words that made him turn and run with his tail between his legs, his pride thoroughly wilted), so he turned to Felix about it instead. Surprisingly, Felix had the reaction that he'd expected Edelgard to have. His old friend just shrugged, looked at him with what could've been pity and said: "I don't know. Guess it just clicked one day. With the professor's help." Dimitri dearly hoped that it would just  _ "click" _ one day for him as well.

It didn't.

Claude improved drastically as well, leaving Dimitri behind in the dust to lick at his wounds. While it hadn't been as sudden as Edelgard or Felix, the fast pace in which he'd picked up his lessons, particularly in Reason magic, made most people forget that Claude had ever had a problem with it in the first place. 

Dimitri hadn't forgotten, though he was beginning to feel like he'd just imagined it. But he  _ couldn't _ have – that feeling of recognising a kindred spirit, Dimitri hadn't felt it since he'd first met Dedue, and even then it hadn't been as strong. While it was expected that Dedue wouldn't have any magical aptitude, Claude was different. Claude's situation was so similar to his own, and the shock of finding physical proof that he wasn't alone in this world had nearly moved Dimitri to tears.

Being left behind hurt.

Dimitri had avoided Claude for this exact reason. While he'd never personally spoken to Claude about his troubles, barely talked to him besides some polite small talk and light banter, he couldn't help but feel betrayed that the Golden Deer leader would dare to try to improve on his own flaws and excel in spellcasting against all odds. Dimitri knew it was ridiculous to feel this way, and finally managed to push past these ugly feelings when he realised that Claude may be the only person who could truly help him.

Cornering Claude had been quite the humiliating affair, for Dimitri had come just short of abandoning his pride and begging on his knees for Claude's help. Thankfully it hadn't come to that, and Dimitri had surprised himself with just how desperate he had become, but nothing had been more surprising than Claude's grin, the way he looked at him as if he already knew all of his secrets, his casually mind-boggling response to Dimitri's request for help.

_ "Well, sure took you long enough." _

Dimitri hadn't seen Claude for nearly an entire week after that, almost like the house leader had completely disappeared from the monastery altogether. But no one else acted as though he was missing, so Dimitri assumed that he simply did not want to be found. Was the brunette having second thoughts about helping Dimitri? Was that why he was avoiding him? These thoughts mixed with the constant feeling of eyes on the back of his head had Dimitri on edge for days, until he'd heard a knock on his window just as he'd woken up that Sunday morning.

He'd just about jumped out of his skin, grabbing his staff and nearly launching it through his dorm window before he saw Claude, wand in hand, cheekily waving at him from the other side.

" Claude! "  he'd yelled, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. "Why are you outside my window? Why couldn't you have knocked on the  _ door?" _

"Good morning to you, too, Your Royalness!" A wink had been thrown at him through the glass as Claude floated several stories above the ground using only a Wind spell. "I see you're up, grab your wand– excuse me, your  _ staff _ – and let's go!"

And now they were here. On a mountain. In the  _ heat. _

Dimitri had forgotten to eat breakfast in all the confusion, something he was often inclined to do if Dedue didn't remind him, and after trekking up a mountain for hours on an empty stomach under the blazing sun, he was starting to get just a little bit light-headed. And irritable.

He'd be damned if he let it show, though. That'd be quite discourteous of him. Claude was only trying to help, in his own enigmatic, one-of-a-kind, extremely taxing way. Dimitri grit his teeth and pushed onward, preventing himself from saying anything, not trusting his own tongue.

It was Claude who spoke after that, as if they hadn't been walking in silence for quite some time.

"So, Your Highness-"

The title made Dimitri twitch, his ghosts hissed at him,  _ you don't deserve it, you're useless, weak– _

"Any line of magic you specialise in? Thought it'd be good to ask before we arrived." Dimitri didn't know why the other house leader bothered. While the prince hadn't told him just how bad he was at spellcasting, he was sure it was common knowledge in the monastery by now, especially for someone like Claude who lived and breathed on the rumour mill. 

He noticed beads of sweat on Claude's brow as he glanced over, and Dimitri realised that the other house leader wasn't as unaffected by the sun as he let on.

Dimitri shook his head to rid himself of the voices of the ghosts, and then the world turned blurry for a second –  _ best not do that again _ – before he dabbed at his own damp brow.

"I don't particularly have one area of expertise, but I suppose I am slightly better at Faith magic," Dimitri responded politely. That wasn't necessarily true; if anything, Dimitri had far more convincing results with Reason magic than Faith, but he was extremely hesitant to practice Reason magic around anyone else, and would much prefer if he could grasp the basics of Faith magic in order to prevent himself from hurting others.

"Faith, huh…" Claude seemed speculative, but casual. It seemed to Dimitri that he always appeared comfortable in every situation. Almost as if to prove him right, the Golden Deer leader stretched his arms above him like a housecat, curling them behind his head in an entirely unbothered stance. "Can't say I'm too much of an expert in that area, myself." Dimitri could've sworn that the look in his eye changed, but he didn't know how. "The Academy tends to mix it with the teachings of the Church, like the magic and religion are codependent. And yet, they don't do that with Reason magic. Why is that?"

The prince felt the blood in his veins run cold, though he wasn't sure why. Where was Claude going with this? Dimitri felt like this conversation was encroaching on dangerous territory.

He attempted to choose his words carefully. "Well… I suppose it's in the name, isn't it? Faith magic."

He saw Claude's face sour, though his smile didn't disappear. "You sure  _ 'suppose' _ a lot of things, don't you?"

A small rock cracked under Dimitri's boot as a spike of indignation shot through him. "I beg your pardon?"

Claude's sour mood seemed to disappear just as quickly as it had come, replaced with his usual pleasantly casual demeanor. "I meant nothing by it, Your Highness–" another flinch– "you just have a bit of a habit of reusing your words. I…  _ suppose _ I'm the same in that regard," he joked, bumping his shoulder into Dimitri's with a small wink, and the prince was caught off guard by how much his irritation with the other man faded away with such a simple action.

Dimitri tucked a sweaty stray lock of hair behind his ear, and considered that Claude had probably wanted a deeper conversation than what Dimitri was offering, though the prince was not exactly keen on spilling his secrets. He was aware of how the other man was attempting to wrap him around his finger, and while he knew that he should've been treating him with great suspicion, he couldn't help but feel compelled to throw him a bone.

The prince crossed his arms, careful not to throw off his centre of gravity on the steep mountain path, and tilted his chin towards Claude in recognition. "...It is said that the goddess Herself blessed Fódlan with the Gift of magic, and that without belief, it is impossible to harness Her Gift." That was one of the teachings that his ghosts liked to whisper in his ear when the moon was high in the sky, and his weariness overwhelmed him. Was his belief in the goddess not strong enough? Was that why he couldn't cast magic? He prayed to Her every night, but to no avail. Did She believe he was unworthy to receive Her Gift?

Dimitri shook his head again in an attempt to rid himself of these thoughts–

And the world turned into a green blur.

He felt hands catch him under the arms as the ground fell out beneath him, as well as a quiet shout, muffled behind the ringing in his ears. Blinking away the black and white spots that darted behind his eyes, Dimitri sat frozen as his green world was washed away to red, a hot streak of pain lancing through his head. And then–

A gentle glow of familiar golden-white light, and the pain was gone. His sight was back.

Dimitri blinked, confused. His world was still green. Why?

"Hey, you alright?" Claude chirped at him, his grin tight around the corners. "Wakey-wakey, you in there?"

The prince's senses came back to him first, his understanding second, and he realised he was sitting on the filthy ground of the rocky mountain path, Claude's worried emerald eyes hovering right in front of his face as he tapped his cheek repetitively in an attempt to grab his attention.

Dimitri blinked again. "Claude, did you… Heal me?"

He saw those eyes shimmer with relief. "Well, yeah, you just collapsed outta nowhere! What was that about?"

Dimitri knew his face would be burning with shame if it hadn't already been sunburnt. He couldn't even take a hike without failing now? What was wrong with him? "I apologise, Claude, I did not mean to burden you–"

He felt Claude shake him slightly by the shoulders. "Hey, no! I didn't ask for an apology, geez." Those green eyes scanned his face and seemed to come to a conclusion. "Why didn't you tell me you were gonna pass out from heatstroke?!"

There was no way that Claude was going to teach him anything now, not when he looked so weak and sick, and  _ no, this was his last chance to learn magic, he needed this, he can't mess this up, he's ruined everything, you're  _ useless _ , your people hate you, the goddess hates you– _

"Dimitri? Dimitri! Oh shit– calm down, just listen to me! You're going to cause an accident!"

_ –he'll give up on you, just like everyone else, you're a waste of time– _

"I– no, I'm not gonna give up on you, Dimitri, just look what you're doing–"

_ -you fail every purpose you have in life, you are a disappointment in every way, nothing but a violent brute, an uncivilised beast, you will lead your nation to its doom- _

Every thought that Dimitri could've had was ripped from his mind as the harsh gale force of a Wind spell tore across his face, filling his lungs with air and effectively silencing the screams of the ghosts in his ears. Grounding hands gripped him by the shoulders, and Claude's face had lost its smile.

Claude looked like he wanted to say something, but for once the silver-tongued Deer seemed to be at a loss for words.

Mortification clogged Dimitri's throat; to crumble like pastry in front of another future leader of Fódlan, how could he ever look Claude in the eye again? No doubt the other has lost whatever shred of respect he had for him, he'll never–

The hands shook him by the shoulders again. "I can hear you thinking," Claude scolded lightly, quietly, like he was afraid Dimitri would run. Like Dimitri was the deer in this situation.

Dimitri couldn't look at those green eyes. "...I– I'm so sorry–"

"You don't have to apologise, Dima," Claude soothed, rubbing his shoulders. The action sent a feeling of shock shoot through his skin, and he shivered. "If anything, I'm the one who should apologise."

That startled the prince. "Don't be absurd! You shouldn't blame yourself for my own weakness–"

"Ah, but I can, you see." Claude smiled, removing one hand from Dimitri's shoulder and tapping the prince's cheek with a finger, forcing him to pay full attention. "Look at your hands."

What?

Looking down, his strong hands gripped his thighs like vices, his gauntlets strangely missing, leaving his pale hands unprotected from the harsh sun. But that wasn't what caught his eye.

In between his fingers, blue lightning danced with the vigor of a resurrected god.

Dimitri stared at it in awe, prying his hands from his thighs and holding it in front of them, between them. "But… how? I've never… I'm not even holding my staff!" he laughed wetly. "How is it possible…?"

Claude smiled at him gently, one of his hands still rubbing smooth circles into his shoulder. "I'm nothing if not curious, and made a few of my own guesses as to how magic really works in Fódlan, forgetting about all of that 'goddess' nonsense." Dimitri was too shocked about this recent development to even comprehend his heretic words. "It's not some external force that chooses to grant you power, Dima, it's all  _ you.  _ It's in your blood. It's connected to your emotions, it works hand in hand with the rest of your human instincts." Claude removed his hands from Dimitri then, grimacing as he pulled away from him. "And that is why I owe you an apology."

Dimitri could feel the electricity running across his skin sputter and weaken as Claude pulled away, and he instinctively moved closer to him again and took him by the arm. His lighting sparked to new life, warming his entire body, and he saw the muscles in Claude's arm jump in response. "What could you possibly need to apologise for? You've done me such a great service, I could never hope to repay you, never mind demanding your repentance!"

Claude seemed surprised by Dimitri's sudden boldness, sheepishly withering under the intensity of the prince's gaze. He let out a dry chuckle, brimming with guilt. "Well, that's where you're wrong, Your Princeliness…"

Dimitri frowned at him, but Claude wouldn't look him in the eye, twirling his braid around a single finger in what seemed to be a nervous tick. "Remember," Claude continued after a moment of deliberation, "when I said that your magic is connected to your emotions?" Dimitri nodded, before making a noise of affirmation when he remembered that Claude wasn't looking at him. "Well, I knew that there had to be something wrong if you hadn't been able to use magic for so long, so…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I decided that the best course of action would be to push you to the limit by mentally and physically exhausting you."

Dimitri hummed. He supposed that made sense. It was no secret that Claude was an active schemer, and a good one at that. "So, you knew that I was susceptible to the heat. And that asking me about religion would upset me."

Claude winced, looking thoroughly chastised and slightly pained, though that had not been Dimitri's intention. "It was only a hunch… and, though it's not much of an excuse, I didn't think it would affect you that badly. I just wanted to irritate you a bit, not give you heatstroke and send you into a full-blown panic." He met Dimitri's gaze, looking very serious and guilty, an expression that the prince did not like to see upon his face. "That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry. If I'd known what it would do to you, I would never have done it in the first place. You have my word."

Dimitri huffed. He wasn't angry at Claude – how could he be? If anything, this should be the happiest day of his life – but the green of Claude's eyes were starting to blend into his surroundings, though there wasn't much greenery this high up in the mountains, and he could feel his limbs start to shake as lightning skipped up his forearms and across his burnt skin.

"...You can stop casting a Thunder spell now, Dima," Claude laughed airily, when Dimitri only stared at his strangely vibrant eyes, dazed.

"Ah," he toned back, "of course. I should- I should do that." He pried his hands off of Claude's arm (who immediately shook it once the prince finally let go), and stared at the appendages free of his gauntlets, uncomprehending. The fried remnants of his gloves clung to his wrists, and smoking pieces of metal were strewn across the mountain path. His mind was fuzzy, like his brain was baking under the heat of the sun. The electricity flashed at him, hurting his eyes. "...How do I do that?"

He heard Claude shift more than he saw it, the black and white spots were starting to creep back into his vision again. "What?" he heard him ask.

"How do I turn it off?" Dimitri clarified, sober thought returning to him as his magic continued to drain him of all of his energy. "I don't– I'm unsure of how to stop it."

He could almost hear the gears in Claude's head screech as they grinded together. He could feel his own brain screech in response. "You… you can't turn it off?" He sounded dumbfounded – that wasn't good. "You sure?"

"Well," he really couldn't see much of anything anymore, and the world was starting to spin, "I'm pretty sure, yes."

His stomach felt sick. He could tell the Thunder spell was only growing stronger as his vision began to flash with blue. This was a horrible idea, he was clearly never meant to use magic, he didn't know how to handle it,  _ how in Sothis's name do you turn this thing off? _

"Okay,  _ shit _ ," he heard frantic shuffling as Claude backed away from him, "uh, first thing's first, Dima– you've gotta calm down, see?

_ Calm?  _ "I  _ am  _ calm!"

"Yeah, I see that–" his blood spiked, and fire rushed through his veins– "o- _ kay _ , new plan!"

Dimitri's head felt like it was going to explode, his burning skin felt like it was ripping itself apart. It had got so bad, so quickly, the prince felt terror grip his bones alongside the flames that licked at them so greedily. "Claude,  _ please,"  _ he gritted out– he could barely speak, "help me, I can't handle this much longer–!"

"Alright, alright, I've got an idea! See that big rock over there?"

"I can't see  _ anything!" _

"Right– just cast the spell in the opposite direction of my voice!"

Dimitri balked. "B-but, I don't know how!"

He heard Claude's voice become less frantic, and more reassuring, cutting through the ringing in the prince's ears. Dimitri clung to it like the lifeline it probably was. "Your staff, Dimitri! You didn't forget that you had one, did you?"

In his pain and confusion, Dimitri had indeed forgotten that his staff was still strapped to his back- he knew it was possible to cast wandless magic, but to witness himself doing it had shocked him into forgetting his staff even existed. However, the prince's whole body burned like it was engulfed in flames, but within his arms felt like there was truly an inferno. The pain was unbearable – any movement at all caused him agony, his hands were going to split by the seams – reaching behind his back was an impossible task.

"I–" Dimitri tried to lift his arms, but the electricity was locking his joints in place, his muscles were screaming at him, his throat was closing up– "I c-can't–"

He heard the sound of stone crack and splinter, and – in what the prince was sure must have been in his own mere delirium – harsh words sworn in an unfamiliar tongue. He could offer no resistance when he felt the ground give way beneath him, only bracing his abused stomach against the sudden upward pressure of Claude's Wind spell preventing him from becoming crushed under a landslide of his own making.

He felt the weight of his staff be lifted from his back –  _ Claude was close, he shouldn't be close, he'll get hurt, he  _ should _ be running away – _ and the object was pushed into his rigid hands.

Immediately, Dimitri's mind ceased to function as he felt fragments of his soul rip from his body and shoot towards the sky. He lost consciousness before he was able to hear Claude's yell, or witness the entire sky flash white with lightning.

* * *

  
  
  


Consciousness came back to him in mere slivers. A weariness set deep into his bones was tempting him into drifting away again, but Dimitri had never been happy lazing his day away, he wasn't brought up that way.

It still took him awhile to notice anything out of the ordinary– that his bed was far less comfortable than normal, that he was still wearing his constricting uniform rather than his regular nightclothes, and that the palms of his hands stung like he'd tried to rub them clean with nettles.

The pain in his palms woke him far quicker than his own stubborn resolve, much to his dismay, and the prince blinked the sleep out of his eyes to gaze upon quite an  _ unfamiliar  _ ceiling.

Feeling a burst of energy, Dimitri heaved himself up onto his elbows to examine his surroundings. With the low light of the late evening drifting in through the window, he recognised the room he was in, completely empty besides himself. 

He was in the infirmary. He heard Professor Manuela and Professor Byleth muttering to each other in low tones outside the door, explaining the current absence of the physician.  _ But, why? Why was he here? _ Glancing to a small bedside table beside him, he found his answer placed upon it, an object that would not have fit on the small surface had it not been shattered into several pieces.

It was his staff. Charred, warped, and damaged completely beyond repair, it was hardly recognizable.

His memory flashed back to life in his brain so quick it hurt. He'd caused an accident trying to use magic again. It was supposed to be normal– without proper directions, Professor Byleth had told him, a Reason spell has a tendency to go awry and sometimes even blow up in your face– but whatever _ that  _ was…

That wasn't normal.

Never before had he cast a spell that seemed to suck out his very  _ soul.  _ It was so powerful it blinded him, it shattered the very ground he stood upon… He'd completely lost control of his power, something he didn't even know he  _ had _ , to the point where he couldn't even move. He'd been so paralysed, Claude had to–

Oh, Goddess.  _ Claude. _

A wild double-take of his surroundings confirmed that, yes, he was still alone in here. The second bed beside him was completely empty, though the sheets were ruffled, as though someone had been occupying it quite recently. Had Claude been lying there? Did Dimitri injure him? Where was he now? The last thing Dimitri remembered was a scorching blindness, and the feeling of Claude pushing his (now utterly destroyed) staff into his hands.

Claude had been much too close for Dimitri not to have hurt him during his loss of control. The prince was appalled at himself – how could he have been so foolish as to hurt Claude, someone who was only trying to help him in his hour of need? – but that feeling was overshadowed by the shock of fear that coursed through him, his worry for Claude's wellbeing piercing him like an ice spell through the gut. It was irrational; if the bed in the infirmary was empty, that had to mean that the other teen was healed and healthy. But Dimitri knew that his heart would not rest until he saw with his own eyes that Claude was okay.

The healers of Garreg Mach were among the best in Fódlan. If Claude was hurt, the monastery's infirmary was where he'd be. So, if he wasn't here…

Dimitri couldn't fathom it being a possibility – that Claude, sharp as nails and with a survival instinct to match, could ever be brought down by Dimitri's  _ magic, _ of all things – but the sheer terror that clawed at his chest wouldn't allow him to believe otherwise.

_You killed him_ , one of his ghosts whispered to him, its tone factual and leaving no room for argument. He didn't turn to look at it, didn't want to acknowledge it, but it sounded like his father. _You killed him, and now he burns in the eternal flames. Such is the fate of all who are murdered without the chance to repent their sins._

That couldn't be possible. It may have even been some kind of vivid nightmare, terrible in its realism. But then why would he be in the infirmary?

This was ridiculous to ponder on. Claude was fine, in all likelihood. It would be presumptuous of him to assume that his fellow house leader could not take care of himself in dangerous circumstances, and the prince had seen him prove himself as truly capable in this regard on numerous occasions.

_ Is it not presumptuous of you to assume that you did him no harm?  _ another one of his ghosts hissed – this one's intonations were the perfect imitation Glenn's voice. _ He would not be the first to fall on account of your own weakness. Do not be so vain as to not take responsibility for your impotence. _

He'd never be able to live with himself if something had happened to Claude because of him– but, no, he shouldn't panic. That would be wrong of him. He had no idea of whether or not Claude was safe. In fact, he had no idea if the other teen had ever made it back to the monastery. He shouldn't panic, he just needed to find Claude, prove to himself, to his ghosts, that Claude was fine, that he was safe, smiling, breathing,  _ alive, he had to be– _

He was on his feet before he knew what was happening, his ears were buzzing, his skin was sizzling, his legs were crossing the room with a fervour that didn't even seem to belong to him, he hardly felt the wood of the door handle splinter underneath his grip as he wrenched the door open.

"Your Highness! What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!"

Professor Manuela and Professor Byleth were both still outside the door, and his muddled brain wouldn't have even noticed them if Manuela hadn't called out to him in surprise. Manuela seemed slightly uncomfortable around him – whether she was perturbed by his unusually rattled demeanor or rather was still feeling guilty about her rude remarks against him earlier this year, Dimitri wasn't sure – but Byleth had the same emotionless face that they always had, though the prince was sure that the detached professor looked disappointed with him. They wouldn't be the only one to feel that way towards him.

His ghosts were hissing at him, telling him to push past them and _ find Claude,  _ but the unflinching gaze of his strange professor helped him to grasp at logic and gather his bearings.

"What happened?" Dimitri rasped at them, ignoring Manuela's question as his throat burned with disuse. "Where's Claude? Is he alright?"

"Whoa, slow down, Your Highness," Manuela placated, holding up her hands in a nonthreatening manner, "you need to tell us what you remember first." To anyone else, her voice may have been considered soothing, but her slow movements only served to irritate him further as his ghosts demanded quick action. It was only through practice and sheer force of will that prevented her from seeing his hackles rise.

"I don't remember much at all," he lied. His ghosts were screaming at him to leave her. "I was hoping your report would refresh my memory."

"Well, you took quite the tumble, from what we heard." It was near amazing how Manuela managed to look both sympathetic and suspicious at the same time. "You two were involved in what could only be called a freakish accident." She crossed her arms, looking to Byleth as if the professor would cut in, continuing when they stayed silent. "Apparently, lightning struck down from the near cloudless sky on the mountain you were climbing, causing a massive landslide. It's a miracle nobody was hurt." The physician shook her head, sighing as if it would rid her of all her problems, before glaring at the prince. "And I mean that for the settlements at the foot of the mountain. How  _ you–"  _ she poked him lightly in the chest– "managed to survive is completely beyond me. If what Claude says is true, then you  _ fell  _ into the _ landslide.  _ He claims he pulled you out with wind magic, but–"

"He's alright, then?" Dimitri asked, most her words going in one ear and out the other, his hazy mind honing in only on  _ Claude.  _ Claude had spoken to her. He'd given his report; that meant that he was okay, that he was  _ alive.  _ He felt the brunt of his panic ebb away, and exhaustion stabbed deep into his bones. His shoulders sagged with relief and– 

_ Are you truly so pathetic as to give up now?! This woman insulted and berated you, but you would rather trust her word than your own eyes? _

The ghosts were pulling at him, demanding he walk away, and desperation clawed at his throat once again. He needed to go, he needed to find Claude, he needed to see with his own eyes that Claude was safe!

"Y-Your Highness, just _where_ do you think you're going?! Come back here! _"_

He barely registered Manuela's shocked face, pushing past her and tearing down the hall towards the staircase as his ghosts dragged him along. His boots thundered against the floor, the sound amalgamating with the pounding of his heart and the ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, strong hands seized Dimitri by the arms, forcibly dragging him away from the staircase and back towards the infirmary. He dug his heels into the stone, and whipped around, glaring at his assailant.

_ "Unhand _ me, this instant!"

Byleth stared back at him coolly while Manuela gawked behind them. "Claude is fine," the professor said, precise and to the point, their words cutting through the haze of Dimitri's mind. "He had a few bruises and scrapes on him when he came in, carrying you on his shoulder. Your injuries had been much worse. Professor Manuela had to tend to you all afternoon." Their normally blank eyes glinted at him. "You need to rest, Dimitri," they ordered, their unwavering tone inciting him to obey their every command (Manuela seemed to jolt at the lack of title her colleague referred to him with).

The numbness in Dimitri's limbs, something he hadn't noticed, was beginning to disappear, and a heavy ache had been seeping into him bit by bit. In recognition of Byleth's words, pressure slammed into his skull, making his sight go slightly blurry, but his ghosts were far more insistent than a little pain. He turned to Byleth, and spoke insistently, using his most authoritative voice.

"I must find Claude first, if you would allow me, Professor." It was a great testament to his patience that he'd still have some semblance of manners even as he could barely keep himself from snarling at his aloof teacher. Manuela mock gasped to herself in the background, muttering something like  _ "so, he'll ask you for permission but not me, how great,"  _ but he ignored her in favour of catching Byleth's answer.

His Professor merely blinked at him. "I do not allow it."

Dimitri felt his teeth grind together. "Please, Professor, if you would do me this kindness; I need to see him."

Byleth's face did not change. "Oh," they said, completely monotone, "well, why didn't you say so."

Dimitri felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and a smile almost crossed his face. "So, I have permission to go find Claude?"

"Oh. No."  _ What?? _

"Why not?! You just said– _ " _

"I will find him myself," Byleth interrupted him, gripping him by the shoulders and spinning him around with a surprising amount of strength to face the infirmary, "and I will bring Claude here. If you are not resting in bed by the time I return, I will not allow you to speak to him."

The prince was gently but firmly pushed into the room and the door was shut behind him with a tone of finality, leaving him there to fidget by his lonesome. He heard Byleth's brusque footsteps become quieter as they walked away, as well as Manuela muttering something to herself along the lines of  _ "And where am I supposed to go? The dining hall? Well, I guess a lunch break does sound nice right about now..."  _ before she Warped away herself, the strangely vacuumous spell causing the prince's ears to pop even from the other side of the door. Quite a mundane use for such advanced Faith magic, but Professor Manuela was a bit of a drama queen that way. He wondered if the people in the dining hall would be surprised by her sudden appearance or if they'd be used to it by now.

It took a short amount of time for Dimitri to remember Byleth's words, crossing the room to sit on the bed, his back ramrod straight. His blood bubbled with apprehension, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He supposed it was his guilt of hurting Claude that made him anxious, and he was unsure if the other teen would accept his apology for nearly getting them both killed. Still, this strange tightness in his chest confused him, even as he ran over what to say in his head.

Was he feeling reluctant to see Claude? No, that couldn't be right, he felt ready to climb that entire damned mountain just to see the other house leader safe and sound. But Professor Byleth was pushing him into a situation that he was feeling less… comfortable with? Claude was coming here. He was going to  _ speak _ to him, in the same room, instead of simply checking if Claude was alright.  _ Claude _ , who so easily unlocked Dimitri's magical potential that he'd been trying to tap into for years, the same Claude that allegedly saved both of them from becoming caught in a landslide while the prince was unconscious, the only person he'd ever felt actually understood his difficulties with magic, the same person who seemed like some cultural enigma, far removed from the normalities and limitations of Fódlan's society, and always greeting Dimitri with a smile no matter what…

The prince was nervous. That had to be what this feeling was. Having interacted with the other house leader more, it was suddenly clear to him that Claude was so far above him that he could hardly face the idea of attempting to speak to him as an equal without shaking in his steel-plated boots.

His ghosts were hissing at him–  _ of course you don't deserve to bask in his presence, you never did–  _ and they were becoming harder to ignore the longer he was alone, but he had to just suck it up. He already knew that Claude was better than him even before they climbed that mountain;  _ everyone _ was better than him, considering that he was a failure at what was widely considered the 'bare minimum' for a noble of Fódlan, never mind the Crown Prince of Faerghus.

Try as hard as he may, even if he managed to gather some semblance of control over magic, his peers would always be superior to him in that regard, and likely in others as well. However, Dimitri did not only represent himself. As the heir to the throne, he represented his country, and his shortcomings reflected on more than just his own person. To shake and quiver before someone who was supposed to be his equal, that would be an embarrassment to the nation he represented, and he could not allow that, no matter how much he wanted to sprint after Professor Byleth and call the whole thing off.

The knock on the infirmary door told him that it was too late for that anyway.

Dimitri jolted, having been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the two sets of footsteps coming down the hallway. He smoothed his hands down his front, only now realising that the uniform he was wearing was incredibly dirty and torn (and wasn't that great?), and stammered out a quick call for the person outside to come in.

Claude entered alone, opening and closing the door behind him swiftly enough that it would have been impossible for the Professor to have looked in. If Dimitri hadn't known any better, he would've chalked up his entrance as just another one of Claude's strange antics, but now the prince was sure that the other teen had a reason for everything he did. He was proven right when Claude crossed the room on quick, light feet, speaking to the prince in a low tone that was falsely conspiratorial.

"My, my," he teased, "I have to say, Your Princeliness, that doesn't look quite like  _ resting  _ to me."

Dimitri blinked, so caught up on wondering how to properly apologise to Claude that he was caught entirely off guard. He eyed the bed that he was seated upon. "What do you mean?" he replied earnestly, feeling compelled to speak in the same low tone as Claude. "I am sitting here on the bed, resting comfortably, as was asked of me."

He saw that smiling mouth twist into a wry line. "Please, Your Highness, your back couldn't be any straighter even if you'd accidentally sat on your staff." Dimitri blanched, his mouth agape, but Claude pressed on before the prince had a chance to reprimand him. "Besides, just sitting on the bed can't really be considered _resting._ The least you could do is prop your back against some pillows. Just what would Teach think? Should I open the door and ask?"

That got Dimitri to move, sitting with his back against the headboard with a few pillows to cushion it, frowning all the while, but he'd do it since Claude was so insistent that he  _ 'rest'  _ properly. "I suppose the Professor filled you in on the requirements I am to fulfill for this short meeting?"

That grin was back in place. "Nah, I just figured. Thanks for proving me right, by the way."

Dimitri almost sighed at him, feeling a strong urge to roll his eyes towards heaven before he caught himself. He knew Claude's real capabilities now. This easy conversation, the relentless teasing, it was all a ploy for the prince to underestimate him. It was supposed to irritate him, but now all he felt was a tinge of exasperation (and an unhealthy dash of fondness). The Alliance heir was trying to get the prince to let his guard down, and it had worked up until this moment. He'd been so distracted that he'd almost forgotten his nerves, an admirable feat, but they hit him again just as he remembered them and he suddenly felt like he couldn't speak anymore.

Claude noticed when the prince grew silent. Of course he did, he noticed everything. He circled the bed and sat at Dimitri's feet, easing the strain on both of their necks by bringing himself to eye level. "C'mon, Your Princeliness," he said, his tone still quiet as if they were sharing a secret, and it was strangely soothing despite the ridiculous nickname, "why the long face? You're not mad about being forced to lie down for once, are you?"

"Ah, no, of course not," Dimitri replied, unwilling to appear ungrateful for Claude's concern. "I… I just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier today." The prince looked to the other's face in the hope to convey to him the sincerity of his words, and it struck him just how relieved he was to see the Deer alive and well, smiling and joking with him as if he hadn't nearly killed them both mere hours before. He found it difficult to hold those deep green eyes with his gaze, but his determination to show Claude the respect he deserved vastly outweighed the guilt that made him feel unworthy enough to look at him.

"I lost control of myself, and of my magic," Dimitri continued, seeing Claude's smile disappear, "and I put us both in a great deal of danger. In fact, if you hadn't been there, I don't doubt that I would have perished." He resisted the sudden urge to grab the other boy's hand, deciding to clasp his own hands together instead, only for the damaged skin of his palms to scream in protest. He settled on awkwardly clenching his hands on nothing. "So, I must thank you, as well. For helping me tap into my magical capabilities, and for rescuing me when I lost control– I feel I will never truly repay you." Dimitri couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face, the most natural one he'd felt in a long time. He saw those green eyes widen slightly in response, so slight that he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been staring intently at them. "You… are extraordinary, Claude." And he meant it. "I can't hope to convey how grateful I am for all that you've done for me."

Claude stared dumbly at him for a few moments, his lips parted just barely, speechless in a way the prince had never seen him before as Dimitri's words weighed heavily in the air. The other house leader seemed to find himself suddenly, shifting where he sat on the bed and clearing his throat before he forced out a nervous laugh. "I– you're quite the flatterer, Your Wordliness! I'd appreciate it if you'd warn me next time before you shower me with adulation!" Another discomforted laugh. "Can't say I don't appreciate the boost to my ego, though."

Dimitri blinked and tilted his head, confused. Something about Claude's reaction didn't sit right with him. "I'm glad. My words are no mere flattery, after all. You've done so much for me, I feel foolish for not having realised your numerous strengths of character before today! It should've been obvious, what with how keenly you picked up our lessons, and how you make the art of casting Wind magic appear near effortless, as well as how everyone in the monastery gravitates towards your sheer charisma and wonderful personality, not to mention–"

_ " Alright!  _ Alright, I get it!" Claude's face had flushed bright red under his tan, the teen very obviously flustered. "Yeesh, you sure you didn't take any bumps to the head on the way down the mountain?" Dimitri felt his brow furrow. Did he not believe him? The prince was nothing but sincere. How was Claude so unaware of his own exceptionality?

"Claude, I assure you, I–"

"Speaking of which," Claude interrupted, still red in the face, pretending as if Dimitri hadn't spoken, "that  _ was  _ quite the tumble you took back there. Looked like it hurt, too. For a moment, I thought you were a goner!" He let out a pained laugh; Dimitri was certainly understanding a lot of Claude's true feelings through these short laughs of his. He hoped Claude didn't soon realise that they didn't sound nearly as mirthful as he wanted them to. "You feeling alright now?"

Dimitri paused to register how his body felt, and it wasn't good. Though it was probably miles better than what it could've been, there was still an exhaustion that seemed to melt his bones, and all of his muscles burned with a ghostly fire, twitching involuntarily every so often. "I'm well," he lied, "no need for the concern. Professor Manuela did a fine job healing me, though I'm afraid I did not offer her the gratitude she was due."

"You and your gratitude!" Claude laughed. "With how readily you bend over backwards for people, someone's bound to take advantage of you eventually…"

The prince gawked at him. "I give credit where it is  _ due, _ no more, no less." He'd been pretty rude to Manuela earlier, passive aggressive in a way that was frankly quite embarrassing, considering she had likely saved his life. He had been on slightly bad terms with the physician due to her comments a few weeks back, but his damaged pride was no excuse for his behaviour. "For Professor Manuela, I must apologize for my lack of conduct. I have been terribly rude to her all this time." Claude looked especially curious at his words, but Dimitri continued before he tried to poke him for answers. "As for yourself Claude, I trust that you will not take advantage of me. You helped me harness my magic, and saved me when I was in danger. You have given me no reason to doubt you, or your kind heart. I owe you a great debt."

"Right…" Claude answered, scratching the back of his head. It seemed like that faint blush was a new permanent feature of his face. "As much as I like cashing in favours, though, I'd say we're already even. I was the one who got us into that mess, so it's only fair that I had to get us out of there."

Dimitri shook his head vigorously, ignoring the way his vision swam in retaliation. "Claude, what are you saying? It was hardly your fault, there was no way you could've known that I… that I would…"

"It's not like you knew that would happen either, Dimitri." Claude frowned at him. "You were just a victim of the circumstances I put you in. I knew that the amount of control you had over your magic was, uh, a tad _lacking_ in places, but I still put you in a bad position. And besides – no one got hurt, much. I think we've both learned a lot from this little escapade."

"Yes, I-I suppose that is true." Dimitri knew that he could use magic now, and that it was actually quite powerful, too. It was genuinely a huge load off of his mind, but his discovery only brought with it a whole host of new problems. He'd have to deal with them on his own, though. "You say that we are even now, and I see no reason to argue with you. Still, though, I wish to thank you for your help. I have a lot to work with now, moving forward."

Claude grinned toothily, his green eyes glinting like that of a cat. He leaned forward on Dimitri's infirmary bed like he was telling the prince a secret, or unveiling a particularly clever scheme. "Don't thank me yet, Your Princeliness– we've barely gotten started!"

"...Pardon?"

"You heard me right," Claude chuckled, winking at him. "What, did you think I'd have you blow up a mountain, send you away with no clue what to do with that, then pat myself on the back and call it a  _ job well done?"  _ He swatted the prince's leg lightly from where it lay under the covers. "I thought you'd have a bit more faith in me than that!"

Dimitri gaped at him, floundering for words. He'd been rendered speechless more than once today. "I– After everything you've done for me, Claude, I couldn't  _ possibly  _ ask you to–"

"I know, I know, I'm a saint, no need to remind me." The Golden Deer leader stood up from the bed as if the amount of optimistic energy he had prevented him from sitting down any longer, waltzing towards the infirmary window. "I'll give you a couple days to get back on your feet, and then you'll _ really  _ be owing me favours."

Dimitri sat forward on the bed, debating on standing up as well but deciding against it. "You'll help me? Truly?" Elation made his leaden bones feel like they had taken flight, and his chest sang with joy. "Claude, you have no idea how happy your words make me. I…  _ thank you,  _ again."

Claude threw another wink at him. "As I told you already, don't thank me yet." He unlatched the window, throwing it wide open, and whipped his wand out of the scabbard on his waist. A Wind spell sprung to life around the Deer's feet, causing his loose clothing to shift as a cool breeze flowed through the room. He cheekily waved at the prince lying in bed. "Better strap in, Your Highness, 'cause Professor Claude is on the case!"

And with that, Claude jumped out the window, carried by wind magic as he flew away.

Dimitri leaned back in bed, sighing to himself. His ghosts were scolding him, hissing at him, but he was too busy smiling to hear.

Claude's teaching methods may be _ unorthodox _ , but with his help…

Perhaps Dimitri did have a chance after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Claude's a dramatic one, ain't he  
> This fic went in a wildly different direction that I'd originally intended, though I guess my original plan was just as wild  
> Maybe I'll continue this...? idk  
> If you think I should add more warnings, please let me know!
> 
> I've got one more entry for dmcl week in the works, it's comin soooon  
> My twitter is 


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